


Wild Tigers I Have Known

by henrywinters



Series: White Foxes [1]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, TECHNICALLY there is majorly hinted n/sanghyuk couple but... i'd feel like a fraud if i tagged it, but it's there!!, this is a very aesthetic fic pls forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9840929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henrywinters/pseuds/henrywinters
Summary: A university AU of sorts: Wonsik, the dirty punk kid, pines invariably after Jaehwan, the well-dressed, well-mannered lead actor of the theatre crew. [inspired by Donna Tartt's The Secret History]





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is so self indulgent i don't even know what to say? I'm sorry??? it's based off one of my favorite novels, and i recommend every book mentioned in this fic. for full atmosphere~ i made a playlist!
> 
> [listen on 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/d3bonair/wild-tigers-i-have-known)  
> OR [listen on spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/synthbin/playlist/5Cg8euaz4E317YtznnHWom)

_There's a strange love inside, It's getting_  
louder and louder and louder  
  
— **The Irrepressibles** , two men in love

 

 

His hair was a bright red, an oddity at Yonsei University if one were to pay any mind, but he rather liked it. It swept across his forehead in scraggly tendrils, often bunched beneath a cap but today he had forgotten it in his room, and thus hid beneath the hood of his sweater. It wasn't yet cold, but Wonsik burrowed his face beneath the collar, bundled tightly beside Sanghyuk who wore thin shirtsleeves and a matching blue tie with small anchors printed on it. He looked rather important, dressed so smartly with his hair parted to the right and slicked away from his face; so much older than he really was. Wonsik admired this about him. But of course, when the two of them sat together this way it attracted a distinct attention; people so often wondering why it was the boy in the Belvedere shoes was huddled next to one who hadn't washed his hair in two days.

 

'OK, but...' Wonsik adjusted his position on the concrete bench the two had been sat upon the last ten minutes; his tailbone felt bruised. 'Who are they exactly?'

 

'I _told_ you,' Sanghyuk sighed. 'They mostly work in the theater crew. You really don't remember them?'

 

'I haven't been a stagehand since last quarter, Sanghyuk-ie, I don't remember anyone.'

 

'Not even Jaehwan?'

 

He said this with such warm accusation it was difficult for Wonsik to keep eye contact and so had laughed instead, a harsh sound that had Sanghyuk's eyebrows drawing tightly together.

 

'What is it, hyung? You do remember him, don't you?'

 

Wonsik shrugged. 'Yeah, 'course I do.' Of course, he thought; it was hard to forget the boy with the gilt colored eyes, who so often smiled across stage to where he knew Wonsik hid beyond the thick mahogany curtains. He had been the only reason Wonsik really stuck around all that time, passing out loose-leafed scripts and being the unlucky stand-in for evening recitals when some unforgivable actor hadn't shown for practice.

 

'Well, good,' Sanghyuk deadpanned. 'Because he's who suggested I invite you.' Then, with a playful glimmer in his otherwise dark eyes, 'I can't fucking imagine why.'

 

They were passing through the courtyard toward the commons, though they wouldn't be eating there tonight, when Wonsik said, 'But I don't really _know_ anyone.'

 

'No,' Sanghyuk confirmed. 'I guess not. But they sorta know you. Which is, like, almost the same thing?' He lead them up the brick colored stairs toward Woolley House, shifting the weight of his book-bag from one shoulder to the other.

 

'Hongbin remembers you too,' he said. 'He remembers that time you had to recite as Barbara Allen during _Dark of the Moon_. And,' Sanghyuk stalled a moment, 'if you can believe it, he thought you were pretty charming.' He shouldered into his room, and dropped his bag on the twin bed in the corner. The blankets were mussed, a pillow thrown casually to the foot of the bed. For a boy who often dressed in shirtsleeves and expensive vests, his bedroom was a disaster.

 

'No,' Wonsik said hastily. 'I really don't believe that.' He fell onto the mattress, arms pillowed beneath his head. 'I don't wanna remember being Barbara Allen either.' Across the ceiling and the top boards of the walls was a mess of glow-in-the-dark stars, a glint of sparkling green that looked odd from this angle. Wonsik studied them momentarily, wondering if it had been Sanghyuk who had stuck them there or if, perhaps, they had been there when the two arrived at Yonsei. But it was too easy to imagine Sanghyuk, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his hair combed neatly aside, as he climbed on the desk to tape glowing stars across the ceiling.

 

'I'm not messing with you, hyung, really.' A falsetto whine had made its way into Sanghyuk's tone as he despaired, 'I need you to come along, I can't _imagine_ sitting with them through an entire dinner without having someone to talk to.'

 

'But they're your friends.'

 

' _Yes_ , but Hakyeon will be there, and opening night is in a week, hyung.' He was staring down at the oak desk beside the window. It was a desk that had been present when they had been assigned rooms at Woolley, and it was an aged oak, scarred and discolored in many places. Sanghyuk had grown a sudden interest in the vein-like scars across the desk top as he traced his finger across them.

 

He had stopped whining, but his tone was very light, 'You know how Hakyeon can get. He's so... passionate.'

 

Wonsik did know. The only memory that surfaced of Hakyeon was one during the opening night of _Dark of the Moon_ ; he had been so utterly moved by the performance, he had spent much of the evening teary-eyed backstage.

 

'It's only dinner, Wonsik. A couple hours at most.'

 

Wonsik gave a soft laugh, genial enough; he had already planned on going. There was a chance of seeing Jaehwan—an opportunity he hadn't been faced with since the beginning of September, two months ago. (He still remembered the way Jaehwan had hugged him, a joy most severely felt after the first performance of _Dark of the Moon_. Had Jaehwan even known who it was he had leapt at? A strange embrace that Wonsik had daydreamed of for weeks.) He would gladly tag along. But, admittedly, he liked too much the way Sanghyuk's face crumpled miserably, as if showing up to a dinner with his theater crew—so many of them dressed just as he was in matching Italian suits and Alligator skin shoes—without Wonsik with him was something that simply could not happen.

 

Wonsik sat upright all at once, suddenly aware of something that was, in fact, rather important. 'I don't know what to wear.'

 

All of Sanghyuk's clothes might have been too wide in the shoulders and waist, and far too long in the sleeves, but he had managed to find something in the back of his closet that fit Wonsik well enough to not look like a terrible hand-me-down. It was a dark blue tweed that cut off a little low on the waist, but fit in the shoulders. It managed to give Wonsik width where he otherwise didn't have it, and paired with pleated blue slacks, he felt rather stupid. He was tempted to stay home, afraid of being humiliated as he passed through Woolley, having to pretend his outfit was everything but absurd, but it was a call from Jaehwan moments before they were due to leave that had Wonsik deciding he may as well suffer for a single night.

It was a restaurant advertised as a seafood shack, complete with decals of multicolored shellfish and seaweed on the front panels of the building, but once inside one could see it was nothing so simple. The tables were small but lined with silk; bay windows opened up on a garden that was only visible from the inside of the restaurant. Grey sunlight filtered through the windows, dull light that would have ordinarily annoyed Wonsik, but tonight he was too nervous to feel anything but an invading giddiness that left his face blossoming with heat.

 

The theater group, which mostly consisted of a strange brood of students—Sanghyuk being the most ordinary of them all—, was sat at a table in the far back. It appeared the restaurant had had to bring together three tables to create one large enough to seat all six of them, and Hakyeon—the former lead of Yonsei's theater crew, but who had graduated the year before under the guise of a performing arts degree—sat alone on one side of the table, a single empty chair to his right.

 

Desperately, Wonsik turned to Sanghyuk as the waiter guided them through the restaurant. It was obvious the two would not be able to sit together, and so he despaired: which would be worse? To sit beside Hakyeon, strangely intimate for they would be seated away from the rest of the group; or to sit with the others, all three of them with their heads bowed genially toward one another, as if their conversation was best sported in secrecy.

 

Sanghyuk did not return Wonsik's glance. He walked past Hakyeon altogether, his head bowed low as he did so, and took the seat beside Hongbin who smiled brightly, dimples in his soft cheeks. They gave him the appearance of a young boy, one dressed handsomely in a fitted dark suit. Taekwoon, in an outfit much the same, his thick hair combed away from his face, accepted Sanghyuk with a curt nod that seemed, to Wonsik, rather cold. But it made Sanghyuk smile, his face opening up like a flower as the two of them—intimately pressed together, Taekwoon's hand beneath the table, presumably on Hongbin's knee—offered him their full attention.

 

It was Jaehwan, now on the outskirts of their former conversation, that was suddenly distanced. But he looked cheerful all the same: looking up at Wonsik with a lazy grin. He blinked slowly, a sluggish appearance in his frayed tweed jacket, hair seemingly uncombed but still tidy.

 

'Haven't seen you a while,' he said.

 

For one prolonged moment, Wonsik believed Jaehwan was speaking to someone else—perhaps, someone that was standing right behind him. But belatedly, a little shamefully, Wonsik nodded.

 

'A few months, I think,' was all he could bring himself to say as he took the open seat beside Hakyeon who was ordering a bottle of sherry. He turned to Wonsik suddenly and asked, 'Do you like wine?'

 

'I... guess so. I don't drink it often.'

 

'No?' Hakyeon touched a finger to his lower lip. 'A beer then?'

 

'For me? S-Sure.'

 

Hakyeon turned back to the waiter, Wonsik once again forgotten. Across the table, Jaehwan watched him tentatively, his chin cradled within his palm.

 

'How have you been?' Jaehwan asked.

 

But it was then Hakyeon gave Wonsik his attention once more, his hand outstretched. 'I've met you before, haven't I?'

 

Wonsik took his hand. It was a smallish hand, the fingers like ice; a contradiction, Wonsik thought, for Hakyeon appeared so warm any other time. 'Yeah. I worked on _Dark of the Moon_ with you.'

 

'He was a stagehand,' Hongbin said.

 

Recognition fell over Hakyeon's face like a blanket. His smile returned and it was one of genuine warmth. 'That's right. Barbara Allen.' He said this matter-of-factly, not a trace of contempt nor witticism.

 

'That's,' Wonsik tried to laugh. 'Yeah, that's right.'

 

'Lovely job at that,' Jaehwan remarked. Chin still within his palm, elbows on the table and all of himself so messy; he was charming in a way Wonsik couldn't pinpoint. 'You should come back and work with us again.'

 

'I never really liked the theater much.' He felt an impulse to apologize, certain he had offended one of them, but this was met with genial smiles; Taekwoon, leaning partway into Hongbin, was not paying mind at all.

 

It was Hakyeon who asked, 'Then what is it you do?' Turning away long enough to accept the delivered wine, the single glass of beer he set before Wonsik.

 

'Right now, not a lot. I picked up a class for classic literature. But it's not—'

 

'You study the classics?' It was Taekwoon who, interest piqued, Wonsik found himself glancing up at. His voice was soft, a wonder at all that Wonsik had heard him.

 

'Yeah, but not very seriously.'

 

Taekwoon regarded him with cold interest. 'No? Then why are you studying it?'

 

'It's more for uh, creative experience.' But Taekwoon had lost interest completely; he stared down at the empty plate in front of him, as if it held more personality than Wonsik cared to show.

 

'Really? What kind of experience?' Jaehwan inquired, his tone airy. It brought with it a wave of calm so striking at first it brought gooseflesh up either of Wonsik's arm, but they quickly dispersed.

 

'I'd like to produce music,' Wonsik explained. He spoke quietly, looking intently into Jaehwan's face. He hoped it would seem then that Jaehwan was the only person he cared to speak to. 'I'd like to write music for other artists to sing.'

 

'Oh, you could do a lot in theater with that,' Hakyeon said loudly. He was in the midst of closing his menu, the waiter having appeared again to take their orders, and to Wonsik's horror he realized he hadn't opened his menu yet.

 

Jaehwan noticed. He gave Wonsik a sympathetic shrug, and called to the waiter: 'We'll have two orders of the lobster with spring onions. And,' he looked at the menu once more, 'two of those little breads you have. With the chives?' Then, when the waiter had stepped away to make his rounds to the rest of the table: 'You really should pay more attention to what you're doing.'

 

'I—'

 

'But Hakyeon is right. You can do a lot for theater with a writing degree.' He had fallen back into conversation, seamlessly. 'You could make plays or write music for them. That's what Taekwoonie wants to do, isn't it?'

 

'No,' Taekwoon said.

 

'Surely you aren't going to all those plays just to waste your time.' Jaehwan elbowed him. It was a strange sight to the see the two of them: one smiling and the other not; Taekwoon's eyes were sharp when they met Jaehwan's, but then—rather suddenly—a warmth enveloped his austere expression.

 

'Taekwoon used to love the theater,' Jaehwan said to Wonsik, whispering loud enough for the whole table to hear. 'That was until he found Hemingway. Imagine that.' He turned back to Taekwoon, maybe to share another smile with him, but found his attention had been stolen by Hongbin who was whispering quite stealthily behind his hand; Taekwoon's face had softened dramatically.

 

Jaehwan shrugged, but it seemed odd to Wonsik who was, above anything, an outsider at this dinner. He watched, feeling stranger still, as Jaehwan ordered a martini and slouched over the table, his manners having been forgotten.

 

'Opening night is in a week,' Hakyeon said. His eyes were deep pools of light, excited even at the mere idea of his production opening. 'I have a couple extra tickets if you'd like to come?'

 

Wonsik looked over the table at Sanghyuk. He had planned to attend the play anyway, for it was Sanghyuk's first performance of the year, but he nodded like it had only now dawned on him that it would be a marvelous idea to attend.

 

'I think I can make it,' he said, taking the ticket Hakyeon offered him. 'I'll try to be there early.'

 

'Yes,' Hakyeon said, happily. 'So you can be in the front.'

It was a production of A Winter's Tale, and Wonsik had seen it before in high school, but he refused to mention it for fear of offending anyone.

 

'I can lend you another jacket,' Sanghyuk said the morning of his opening night. 'It might be a littler bigger, but it's nice. I have a tie, too.' From the back of the closet, he produced a solid maroon tie that matched well with a silver jacket and identical slacks, his approving smile all that Wonsik needed to accept the offered clothing.

 

'After tonight, you won't have to wear all these suits anymore. You can go back to your dirty sweaters.'

 

The rest of the day followed in a dream-like manner. A ball of excitement had appeared in the pit of Wonsik's stomach, where it steadily grew into a flurry of butterflies. He ambled around campus, holding the brochure for the play crumpled in his hand, and smoked a single, unfiltered cigarette by the arts department, remembering in earnest the past performance of _Dark of the Moon_. Jaehwan's voice had melted the stage in a magic-like trance; the whole audience had been enamored of him, and tonight, Wonsik was certain, would be no different.

 

But once he had finished his cigarette, stopping by the library for only a moment to return an old copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ , Wonsik fell into bed—his own twin mattress smelling of cologne and musk; a striking difference from the candy sweet scent of Sanghyuk's sheets—and had promptly fallen asleep. He hadn't meant to, of course, but when he woke he found he had slept through the remaining hours of daylight. Already five minutes late for the production, Wonsik sprung out of bed, his hair tangled and left uncombed as he slipped into the silvery suit coat Sanghyuk had left for him, effectively hiding the wrinkles which riddled his shirtsleeves.

 

He sprinted across the courtyards, cold wind whipping through him like shards of cool glass. He stumbled—breathless—at the auditorium doors. But they were locked.

 

Cursing lowly, he could think of nowhere else to go. He blew warm air inside his cupped palms, feeling the first shiver of cold splice through him; sweat dampened his forehead and made him feel tacky, his hair laying in unkempt curls over his eyes. An unease had started to fester, and there was guilt underlying it all; he had promised he'd be there; and he'd hate to explain to Sanghyuk that he had missed the doors by a measly ten minutes.

 

Dejected, with little more excuse than the shame that colored his face, Wonsik rounded the theater to the back door, hoping it would be open; and found that the knob gave beneath his grasp. His heart jolted, a wave of dread—one felt for only a moment—washed thinly through him, and then Wonsik ducked inside to the back of the stage.

 

Here: life was alight. Actors scurried from one part of the stage to another, costume designers fretting over torn seams, and Hakyeon, among it all, his genial voice floating across the chasm of chaos so soothing Wonsik found himself gravitating toward it.

 

'I missed the doors,' Wonsik said when Hakyeon startled.

 

'I told you to be early,' he laughed. 'Look at your _hair_.' He patted down as much of it as he could, but ultimately gave up when Wonsik's fringe sprang back into place. 'Go through the side, there's a spot open next to Taekwoon.'

 

Wonsik grimaced. 'Taekwoon?'

 

'Yes, he's out there. I told him to wait for you, so you better get going before the curtain goes up.'

 

It was easy to slip undetected from the side of the stage, but harder to squeeze through the onslaught of people roaming the audience; but once through, elbowing too many to count on his way past, Wonsik found the empty chair beside Taekwoon who was, more or less, asleep in his spot. His hands were folded in his lap, black suit fitted perfectly to the width of his shoulders, and a silver tie underneath. He opened his eyes only once when he'd felt Wonsik brush past him, and with a dejected, disinterested blink, he closed them again. In his lap lay a copy of _The Sun Also Rises_.

 

'You're late,' was all he offered. And when Wonsik, in an array of rapid whispers, tried to explain why this was, Taekwoon simply lifted a hand. 'The show's starting.'

 

As if on cue, the lights dimmed, the opening music began and Sanghyuk stepped on stage to present the production.

 

The curtain rose and the stage opened up in a brilliant spark of light that did little to dwindle the remaining adrenaline which Wonsik felt. His heart still hammered, his toes cold in the borrowed Belvedere shoes Sanghyuk had copped from the costume department; and it was difficult to follow the story. Though it was true, Wonsik had never been one for the theater, and had—in many ways—difficulty processing the scenes, he was moved by Hongbin's deep tones, though it seemed he only spoke a short amount of lines. It was during his scenes that Taekwoon, politely slouched in his seat, would straighten with his head lifted, as if allowing the words to flow through him. Wonsik was certain he had made it up, but he thought for a moment Taekwoon's eyes glittered under the lights, dampened with emotion.

 

And there was, of course, Jaehwan. He sprang to life beneath rust colored light, his blonde hair reflecting the sallow tint; he laughed loudly, his smile—charming and magnetic—was enough to make Wonsik's heart skip. Impossible to follow the story, Wonsik found it easy to follow Jaehwan as he moved with flourish across a stage that was suddenly too small to contain his allure. And for one terrifying moment Wonsik had brought his hands together, a large, single clap that resounded loudly in the auditorium as Jaehwan exited the scene. Dismal, and feeling ill with embarrassment, he sank low in his seat as Taekwoon, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth, watched him briefly.

 

'So you liked it?' Taekwoon asked after the actors had taken their bow, the real applause coming as a burst of thunder.

  
'I guess, yeah.'

 

'You enjoy Shakespeare then?'

 

He would have been happy to lie, to hide behind a knowledge of literature that would surely give Taekwoon a reason to like him. But Wonsik faltered, sure that Taekwoon could easily catch him in such a situation. 'Well, not really.'

 

'No? He's an acquired taste, isn't he?'

 

'I... yes?'

 

'I would think that a classics major would enjoy him a bit more.'

  
There was no animosity in his tone, and the coldness that had once enveloped his face had seemingly melted away during the performance, but Wonsik still felt scolded. He limply lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug.

 

'It's not my major.'

 

'That's right,' smiled Taekwoon. His smile was more off-putting than any scowl he had offered Wonsik in the past. 'We should go backstage then.'

 

But Wonsik wasn't sure he was allowed there. He imagined it was simple for Taekwoon to go wherever it was Hongbin went, to find comfort among people he didn't quite know for the entire theater crew knew who he was. And it could have been because of this that, with Taekwoon's hand lightly nudging the small of his back, Wonsik felt a sudden tickle of pride touch his lower belly. He walked with his shoulders squared, just as Taekwoon was walking; and tried to mirror Taekwoon's motions. He felt silly, but ultimately accepted in this large crowd of actors.

 

It was Sanghyuk he saw first. Tall and lean, propped up against the back wall, wearing a blue petticoat opened in the front. He had on a white scarf and was wearing it as a sort of tie. Beside him was Jaehwan in a simple silk vest, embroidered in maroon.

 

'Hyukie!' Wonsik called, pushing by those he was not well acquainted with. He passed Taekwoon who had somehow produced a single rose, and was handing it to Hongbin who was flushed a deep red. Then Hakyeon who wore a smile so bright it seemed to sparkle more than the overhead luminescence; and finally: Sanghyuk, grinning wildly as if he had just heard the greatest news of his life.

 

'Hyung, did you like it?' he asked, bounding to Wonsik's side. 'Was it boring? You didn't find it boring, did you?'

 

'No, Hyukie, it wasn't boring.'

 

'You _hate_ Shakespeare, I know, but...' He beamed even through his growing anxiety, and Wonsik's heart gave a steady lurch.

 

'You were great, I promise.' Then, turning to Jaehwan who was watching with delicately fine features masked beneath a soft, genial smile, 'You were too.'

 

'What a gentlemen.' He touched Wonsik's shoulder. 'Thank you. Maybe next time you won't have to hide backstage and you'll be on time?' He left then, still smiling a teasing grin that Wonsik was unsure what to make of.

 

Sanghyuk eyed him. 'What's he talking about, hyung?'

 

'Oh, well, I was—'

 

'Hey.' It was Hongbin. He had a hand clasped tightly about Wonsik's bicep. 'What are you doing this weekend?'

 

'I... I'm not sure yet.' Wonsik would not bother to explain that making plans, even for near future events, proved difficult to keep no matter the situation. Hongbin was smiling too brazenly, a genuine spark of light within him as he spoke; Wonsik didn't want to take this away.

 

'If you aren't doing anything, why don't the two of you come with us to Taekwoon's estate?'

 

Wonsik's forehead creased deeply. 'He has an estate?'

 

'It belongs to his grandparents, but no one is there this time of year. Too cold or something, I dunno.' Hongbin dropped his hand from Wonsik's arm. 'What do you say?'

 

'Sounds nice,' Sanghyuk answered for them both. 'We'll make it.'

 

Taekwoon ambled up then, a hand on Hongbin's hip as Hongbin told them both, 'Friday night, alright? Be somewhere I can find you.'

They spent the following week in Woolley House, leaving only on Wednesday for a late dinner at an Italian restaurant near the edge of town, then to the bar for a quick beer. They caught the end of a footie game, Sanghyuk—drunk without realizing—calling mildly to the television as a team Wonsik didn't know well, scored a goal.

 

'They're never any good,' Sanghyuk murmured contemplatively; Wonsik had only nodded in an attempt to follow the conversation.

 

When Friday came around, so stir-crazed was he that the very thought of leaving for the weekend set his bones alight; he imagined the estate with open fields, and large ivory statues lining the front lawn. A forest of Black Tupelo trees, colored deep browns and reds, and the smell of their ripening fruit leaving the cool winds saccharine. He knew that in his imaginings, he didn't have any solid proof of the type of life Taekwoon lived, but Wonsik could not imagine him anywhere without a flowering garden, marble steps leading to an open, eccentric kitchen; all the light of the day streaming along ceramic tiles and dark wood interior. Within this reverie, growing more aware of himself—an English student without the most basic knowledge of worldly classics—he found himself in the library that Friday evening, just before dark; and with a copy of _Bleak House_ , Wonsik wandered through the courtyards, mostly deserted now as the week had come to an end.

 

But as dark descended and late evening came about, Wonsik—bleary eyed and tired—poked his head into Sanghyuk's room, finding there: Sanghyuk, flipping through his phone, vacantly.

 

'He hasn't called?'

 

When Sanghyuk answered quietly by shaking his head, Wonsik felt the first trembles of the floor; music, playing mildly, from downstairs.

 

'We shouldn't drink much,' Sanghyuk called as he followed Wonsik, moments later, through the growing party. 'There's still a chance Hongbin will come.'

 

'It's late,' Wonsik concluded simply. He took two shots of SoHo, and finished a club soda that tasted of peppermint schnapps. He offered one to Sanghyuk who promptly shook his head, then took the drink anyway, smiling sheepishly as he finish it all in one large swallow.

 

The alcohol was cold on Wonsik's tongue, but spread warm inside him. It left his legs watery and weak as he wound through sweating bodies already drunk. He lost track of time, lost track of Sanghyuk, and found himself in the kitchen with a new drink poured and a cigarette craving that left his throat swollen shut. He wasn't prepared for the hand on his shoulder, nor the soft rumble of his name a second later—a voice soft like an angels, he thought, like a dream. But as he turned toward the intrusion and found himself staring hard into the gilt eyes of Jaehwan's crestfallen face, Wonsik's heart burst. A cold ache spread through him like a raging fire.

 

'Are you ready to go?' Jaehwan asked. His voice was low, a breathy tone Wonsik thought he could listen to for all his life. 'I have the car outside if you are.'

 

'What about Hongbin?' He noticed the strange feeling of his own feet, how he couldn't stand still for all the alcohol inside him was whirring in his blood, leaving him uncomfortable.

 

'He's already at the estate. Taekwoon's car wouldn't start. Probably because of the weather—' The temperature had dropped considerably overnight, a cold front sweeping from the north overseas; Wonsik nodded understandingly.

 

Jaehwan motioned to himself with a dramatic flare. 'I'm here to save the evening.' Then he smiled, and it was a generic smile that could have been for anyone, but Wonsik felt his bones grow watery. All of him, all at once, melting.

 

Jaehwan didn't seem to notice, or if he did he made no show of it. He touched Wonsik's arm to steady him and only then did Wonsik understand he was leaning too far forward, as if readying himself to topple over altogether.

 

'Had a bit to drink, huh?' Jaehwan laughed. 'You're fucking hammered.'

 

'No...no, I'm really not.' But, God, he was.

 

It was in Wonsik's stubbornness that Jaehwan, once dull-eyed and seemingly far away, warmed within an instant. He pulled Wonsik through the party, his hand within Jaehwan's own, and guided him away from the noise. He asked, 'Where are your things?' and disappeared upstairs to collect the single duffle that held both Wonsik and Sanghyuk's clothing.

 

Outside, they piled into the front seat of Jaehwan's car: Wonsik squeezed between Jaehwan's bony shoulder and Sanghyuk's large frame.

 

'Sorry about all this,' Jaehwan said. 'It isn't a car made for large parties, the back seat is so small and well... I don't think Hyukie would be comfortable anywhere.'

 

Sanghyuk waved off the apology with a partially drunk grin that was to Wonsik, who was very drunk by now, a charming smile that made his face fill with color. He wondered absently if Jaehwan thought Sanghyuk to be handsome.

 

'How long is the drive?' Sanghyuk inquired.

 

But the answer was lost to Wonsik as his head began to lighten, his heart trembling as the car pulled through traffic, across icy roads that glittered under sallow street lamps. He leaned his head back, neck craned awkwardly, and he heard Jaehwan ask if he was alright, but felt compelled to stay silent.

 

The radio was tampered with. Something gentle and slow paced turned partway up and all the windows cracked as Jaehwan lit a cigarettes. The cool wind whipped Wonsik's hair in a frenzy, his sweater cozy around him as he burrowed further into it. Then, softly, Jaehwan told them both, 'It's late and all, but everyone should still be awake. Hakyeon came for dinner earlier and we lost track of time.'

 

The car jerked to a stop as Jaehwan cursed quietly to himself, and continued, 'Hongbin would have come straight away after Hakyeon left, but the car started to act up, and I'm afraid Taekwoon is a lost cause when it comes to mechanical work.'

 

'But the car?' Sanghyuk wondered.

 

'Hongbin can fix it in the morning. He's pretty good with that kind of thing. Or if one of you knows something about cars?' He laughed when no answer came. 'Just as well. I'm awful at anything involving my hands.'

 

'I don't believe that,' Wonsik said, though he was unsure what had made him speak up. He fell back into his drunken silence a second later when Jaehwan, chancing a glance toward him, simply shook his head in disbelief.

 

'I can prove it if you really want to see,' he said lightly. But by then Wonsik was unreachable again, having tucked himself into Sanghyuk's side as if the very essence of Jaehwan was too much for his heart to bear.

It was after eleven when they pulled off the highway, and twenty after by the time they reached the estate. Wonsik was able to amble out of the car more gracefully than he had been getting into it, but his legs still wobbled. His heart was within his throat as Jaehwan rounded the small vehicle to come stand beside him.

 

'It looks dark in there,' Jaehwan commented before ducking into the backseat for their luggage. 'I guess we must have missed them just before bed.'

 

But inside, the sounds of music could be heard from upstairs. It was a large house, one quite similar to what Wonsik had imagined, though the floors were not made of ceramic tile. They were, instead, scarred oak and the color of cherries. The walls were paneled in black wood, a growing smell of pine and spice; and where Wonsik imagined large ivory statues was instead a large collection of old paintings, mounted and framed beneath dwindling yellow light, like that from kerosene lanterns.

 

'Taekwoon's grandpa is something of an art collector,' Jaehwan told them. He spoke softly, a weak thrum of his voice; so misplaced in this large, hefty house. 'He really loves Rembrandt. It might be why Taekwoon has such a soft spot for old work. Why don't you go upstairs?' he said to Wonsik. Then, glancing back at Sanghyuk who was crouched low beside the fireplace, stirring fresh ashes, 'I think Taekwoon must be in the library. I can hear the piano.'

 

And sure enough, he was. Sat at a shimmering black Baldwin, dressed in a pair of pajama trousers and a flannel shirt that seemed pressed and starched even for sleep, Taekwoon expertly played a gentle Chopin that leered eerily in the small space of the library. From the top of a winding staircase, admiring the music with a glass of something clear in his left hand, was Hongbin. He looked over the banister and smiled.

 

'Sorry about the time,' he called down. 'I would have called, but I don't have Sanghyuk's number.'

 

This made Sanghyuk's cheeks flush a bright pink. He murmured, 'I thought so.'

 

Taekwoon stopped his playing momentarily to acknowledge them both. 'There's whiskey upstairs and a couple glasses if you want a drink.' Then the music resumed. It was a piece Wonsik had heard once in a film, years ago.

 

'Did you want one?' Hongbin asked, filling two tumblers with liquor. But Wonsik didn't, though he accepted the drink and made show of sipping it. He let the liquid wet his upper lip before pulling the glass away.

 

'Tomorrow, you'll see everything,' Hongbin said. 'This place is really nice. We can go for a hike if you'd like? Or a picnic even. If it isn't too cold in the afternoon. You know, they said it might snow.'

 

Sanghyuk smiled, and made a comment that passed over Wonsik's head, for Jaehwan had returned to the library, slightly worn and looking tired. Wonsik left the two to discuss the possible trip in the morning, and stumbled awkwardly down the narrow, winding steps.

 

'I left your things in your room. I'll show it to you before bed. Unless you want to go now?'

 

For a moment, Wonsik was tempted to accept this offer, if not to get away from the growing thickness of the library's air then to be alone with Jaehwan for at least a second. But he shook his head and offered the tumbler instead. 'I don't really want this,' he confided.

 

'I hate whiskey.' Jaehwan gave the glass to Taekwoon who took it with a kindly nod. He finished it easily, as if it posed only as an inconvenience to his playing.

 

'Why don't you play something a little more upbeat?' Jaehwan said as he took the empty glass and walked up the stairs.

 

Taekwoon hadn't taken the bait, and began a slow rendition of Satie that Wonsik recognized almost immediately. He felt his face flush as he leaned over the side of the Baldwin to say, rather crudely, 'I know this one.' He pulled back quickly, realizing just how ridiculous he sounded.

 

But Taekwoon smiled. 'It's one of my favorites.'

 

'You said Hakyeon stopped by?' Sanghyuk said, upstairs. 'Does he come here often?'

 

Jaehwan fell into a red leather recliner squeezed between the liquor cabinet and a large black bookcase, his legs thrown over the arm. He dangled one foot listlessly, eyes half closed. 'Almost every weekend. He'll be here for dinner tomorrow too, so don't feel bad that you missed him.'

 

'Oh, I don't feel bad.'

 

'He'll be happy to see you,' Jaehwan said kindly.

 

Sanghyuk lowered his head, ultimately lowering his eyes and stared severely at the ground between his feet. Wonsik had to wonder: was it possible Sanghyuk harbored a crush he never bothered to notice until now?

 

Downstairs, the music stopped. Hongbin, in the middle of refilling a glass, leaned over the banister and called down quietly, 'Are you going to bed?'

 

'Yes.'

 

He turned to the three of them and nodded a goodnight. 'I'll see you in the morning then. For the hike?'

 

Sanghyuk nodded as Jaehwan threw his head back with a sigh. 'We'll see.'

 

He left down the stairs quickly then, falling into Taekwoon's chest as they disappeared through the library entrance; and Wonsik noticed the despondency that fell over Jaehwan like a curtain. His once clear eyes clouded over disinterestedly as he watched them go. As if annoyed, he rose from his seat and sighed wistfully.

 

He replaced the cap on the whiskey and took out a small bottle of cherry schnapps. 'You want another? Wonsik?'

 

Stricken by the sudden use of his name, Wonsik nodded blearily; he was only half-aware of what Jaehwan had said, and given a half full glass filled partway with ice, Wonsik sipped tentatively.

 

'Thanks, but,' Sanghyuk shook his head. 'If Hongbin wants to do something in the early morning, then maybe...'

 

'Smart boy,' Jaehwan smiled. 'I'll show you the room if you want to sleep then?' He touched Wonsik's elbow, 'Why don't you take the cigarettes, they're just over there—yes, on the table—and go out on the porch. I'll meet you there.'

 

Wonsik followed them out of the library, and watched them go deeper into the house, up a winding set of large stairs that, presumably, lead to the bedrooms; then they were gone, and Wonsik, alone in the cold dark, fumbled with the bottle of schnapps, his glass, and the pack of menthol cigarettes Jaehwan scarcely smoked.

 

On the porch, the stink of honeysuckle was immense. It lingered not as an aroma would, but like an odor: thick and sweet in the air. Under the soft fairylight of night, stars brightly lit and burning far off, Wonsik fell heavily into a wicker chair. He eyed the accompanying chair, identical in make, and peeking over his shoulder to the house—as to make sure he was still alone—he pulled the chair closer to his own.

 

When Jaehwan appeared, moments later, he politely took the cigarette box from Wonsik's lap. 'I suppose it's only us, then.'

 

'I don't mind.'

 

'No? Neither do I.' He lit the cigarette. 'It's just a pain that Taekwoon and Hongbin do everything together. But, I guess, you know how love is.'

 

But Wonsik didn't know. If he had ever been in love, he couldn't remember, and even then he was sure he had never seen a relationship like Taekwoon and Hongbin's. Without thought, he murmured, 'Not really,' and was slightly taken aback by the severity of Jaehwan's expression.

 

'Really? You've never been in love?'

 

'I don't think so.'

 

'No. It's not something you think about.' He took a sip of his drink. 'But with _those two—_ God. They can be totally boring, and they never want to do anything without the other. It makes it impossible to have any plans with them.'

 

'Are you upset?'

 

He startled. 'No, of course not. I'm sorry, does it look that way?' He laughed, embarrassed; and Wonsik wished to take back his words. 'It's just that... I've known them an awful long time, and it's always just the three of us. But ever since Sanghyuk came along this year, it's been more bearable.'

 

Wonsik tapped the toes of his shoes, suddenly nervous. He paid little mind as Jaehwan resumed the position from the library: his legs thrown over the arm of the chair, all of his bones seeming to melt as he grew comfortable.

 

'You've never been in love?' Wonsik chanced when the silence grew heavy and tiresome.

 

'I have. It's nothing great.'

 

Wonsik wanted nothing more than to inquire about the person whom, he believed, must have been incredible in order to achieve Jaehwan's attention, let alone his heart. In the short time that Wonsik had known Jaehwan—as well as the others—it seemed there was no one quite to Jaehwan's liking, and at times it appeared even those he kept close to him were not of great interest. He often lingered in rooms, wanting his own company rather than anyone else, and tonight proving Wonsik's original idea of his preferring isolation to that of communal regard, was broken but only momentarily. Even as they sat beside one another now, sharing a cigarette Jaehwan demanded he couldn't finish alone, there was a large space between them that could be heavily felt. It was as if no matter the scenario, Jaehwan simply could not bring his guard down.

 

They continued to smoke and reached for their drinks at almost the same time; and as Wonsik brought the glass to his warm mouth, flooding himself with a coolness that quickly dispersed to heat—welcomed by the rising cold winds around them—Jaehwan tipped his head back and ran one, bony hand through his hair.

 

'They've been together long?' Wonsik asked, for sake of speaking. His teeth chattered gently, knees starting to ache in rebellion. It was late and he was drunk again, growing more exhausted with every passing minute.

 

'Who?'

 

'Taekwoon and Hongbin.'

 

'Oh—' Jaehwan sighed. 'Yes. Years and years... and _years_.'

 

Wondering, with growing alarm, was it Hongbin that Jaehwan had loved? It would make sense of the contempt so boldly felt when the three of them were together; no matter the situation, it seemed, there was always a blockage between them. The dinner at the seafood shack, the way—during all those weeks Wonsik had been their stagehand, passing out fliers and costumes and collecting scripts left behind by some inconsiderate person—that Jaehwan would walk far behind the other two, as if to keep an eye on them at all times.

 

But it felt odd: Jaehwan and Hongbin. He shook the idea loose, and asked, 'Are they married or something?'

 

Jaehwan snorted a sharp laugh. 'You would think so, wouldn't you? But no. Not yet anyway. They said they're waiting until they finish school.' He took another drink of his schnapps. 'That is, _if_ Taekwoon finishes.'

 

'Why wouldn't he?'

 

'Well, he doesn't really want to be here. Ever since Hakyeon left last year, it's really been a wonder Taekwoon is still holding on at all. What can he do with a classics degree anyway?'

 

It had never been a question he had wondered before, but presented with it now Wonsik was able to imagine Taekwoon in a classroom, smallish round glasses reflecting harsh overhead lights; his hair would be parted handsomely, a tie to match his eyes.

 

' _Technically_ , Taekwoon is good enough at all his hobbies that he could pretty much do whatever he liked. But none of it requires much schooling.' Jaehwan exhaled the last drag of the cigarette and dropped it into his glass. 'Anyway, he wants to be a father. Can you believe that? Fuck school and careers, he wants to be a _dad_.'

 

Wonsik snorted. He didn't think it best to say he could very well imagine Taekwoon and Hongbin both with a horde of children, Taekwoon staying home and cooking lavish meals in his Hermes suits, a book propped open on the mantel.

 

'Besides,' Jaehwan continued. 'Taekwoon wouldn't be here anyway if it wasn't for Hongbin. Did you know? Well—' he laughed, 'of course you don't know, but his first year here, he didn't want to stay enrolled simply because he couldn't stand being apart.'

 

Wonsik detected the distaste in Jaehwan's tone, though it was light and concealed well. It might have not been there at all, really, a simple lilt in his tone that Wonsik took the wrong way. He shifted in his seat. 'Oh.'

 

'That's love, I suppose.'

 

'Yeah. I suppose.'

 

In a sudden flourish of motion, Jaehwan unhooked his legs from the arm of the chair and sat with his knees pulled to his chest, bundled within himself and made small. His shadow was nonexistent; and he: adorable.

 

'Enough about them,' he said with a laugh. 'Why don't you tell me about you?'

 

'Me? I think I told you everything already.'

 

Jaehwan tilted his head, face pinched disbelievingly. 'You only told me what you're studying. That can't _possibly_ be all there is to you?'

 

'Well,' no. Of course not, Wonsik thought. But where would he begin? And how much of it was something Jaehwan really wanted to hear? It hurt in a deeply strange and profound way to think that he could say something—or nothing at all—and it would be something that could change Jaehwan's already delicate opinion of him.

 

'Oh, it's alright, Wonsik.' Jaehwan collapsed back into his relaxed manner. 'You don't have to go on about yourself if you don't want to. I just thought it better than sitting here in silence.'

 

'Why don't you tell me about yourself, then?'

 

Jaehwan laughed softly. 'Haven't I already? No, I don't want to.' He lit another cigarette. 'Let's just sit here a little while longer. It's getting late anyway.'

 

And so, they did. Wonsik accepted the cigarette when Jaehwan passed it to him, but didn't bother to smoke it. He simply held it, as well as the glass of schnapps he had yet to finish. But after a long moment of silence, Jaehwan's voice having weakened with exhaustion, a soft slur in his tone, he said, 'You know, I think it's really sweet you want to write music.'

 

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Wonsik thought he had never quite looked so handsome. 'I always wanted to be a singer.'

 

Remembering the production of _Dark of the Moon_ , Wonsik murmured, rather drunkenly, 'You have a beautiful voice.'

 

A harsh sound like a scoff, Jaehwan blinked slowly up at him, his eyes glossy with liquor. 'Thank you.' Then, he rose to his feet. 'I think we should sleep. It's getting late, and if we're supposed to go with Hongbin on his _adventure_ tomorrow, then—' he laughed as Wonsik steadied him. Reeling on his feet, Jaehwan clasped Wonsik's arm tightly. 'I don't think I'll make it.' Then, his tone a forced whisper that made Wonsik smile, 'I don't really want to go anyway.'

 

'Then we should stay here.'

 

'Yes. Stay with me,' and he pulled Wonsik along, away from the tipped over cups and cigarette filters across the porch floor. Into the house where the air was stale, but cold, nightmarish light flickered over vacant painted faces, and all the eyes of passing pictures seemed to follow as they made the winding crawl to the second floor.

 

They stopped by a closed door. Jaehwan fixed the collar of Wonsik's sweater. He smoothed his hands over his chest, and said, 'This is your room. I'll leave a note for Hongbin, so he doesn't come and bother you.'

 

'What will we do tomorrow?' Wonsik asked, worrisome and tired; he didn't want Jaehwan to leave yet.

 

'Whatever we want. Maybe we can go for lunch somewhere.'

 

Silence followed then, Jaehwan's hands still smoothing over Wonsik's chest; it was like he had forgotten what he had been doing, and standing quietly now, watching Wonsik as he shifted from one foot to another, Jaehwan seemed to lose his voice.

 

Finally, Wonsik politely removed Jaehwan's hands from his sweater. 'I'll see you in the morning?'

 

'Yes, in the morning.'

 

'Well,' Wonsik slipped awkwardly into his room, wishing he was more sober, that his eyes weren't so heavy; he imagined what it'd be like to stay up until dawn, listening to Jaehwan's soft laughter. 'Goodnight.'

 

It seemed a while before Jaehwan, lingering in the doorway, understood that he had paused a moment too long. Embarrassed, he pulled away from Wonsik and moved down the darkened hall, calling over his shoulder a hasty goodnight.

As much as Wonsik wanted the following morning to play out just as he and Jaehwan had planned, it was obvious upon waking that it wouldn't be so. Taekwoon, having skipped out on Hongbin's early hike, was sat lonesome at the breakfast bar, slouched over an open newspaper.

 

'Good morning,' he said without looking up. 'Did you sleep well?'

 

Wonsik eyed the analog above the table. It was well afternoon, closer to one, and he felt sluggish; his hair a messy mop atop his head, and the same sweater from the night before stuck to him with the musk of sleep.

 

'Yes,' he murmured. 'Are Hongbin and Sanghyuk still hiking?'

 

'No, they went to lunch.'

 

'Why didn't you go?'

 

Taekwoon looked up then, one eyebrow lifted. He smiled, though it was brief. 'I had an early lunch while they were away. Would you like some coffee?'

 

'No, but thank you.' Wonsik thought about sitting beside Taekwoon, but imagined the closeness of the chairs to be far more intimate than either of them were comfortable with. But there was only one side to the breakfast bar, and therefore, if he didn't sit beside Taekwoon, then he wouldn't sit at all.

 

Surprisingly, and rather suddenly, Taekwoon's eyes burned with a growing curiosity. 'Did you and Jaehwan-ah stay up late last night?'

 

'Sort of.'

 

'Maybe that's why he is still asleep. He's usually awake before noon.' Taekwoon turned back to the newspaper. He had a steaming cup of coffee, half empty, in his hand, and brought it to his mouth now. But he didn't take a drink. Instead, it lingered there, pressed against his lower lip.

 

'Would you like a Caprese salad? I don't make them often, because Hongbin doesn't like them. But they're rather good.'

 

'No salads,' Jaehwan called from the kitchen doorway. He strolled in, wearing a striped robe that was too large for his lithe shoulders. He smiled when Wonsik startled, a hand resting on his arm. 'We have a lunch date, remember? Why don't you get ready?'

 

He left little in way of argument, and whether or not he had planned to go before, Wonsik was now presented without option. He smiled all the same, a swelling excitement tingling the soles of his bare feet.

He had expected an opulent restaurant much like the seafood shack they had all attended the week before, but to Wonsik's utter surprise Jaehwan pulled into a small mom-and-pop diner, fifteen minutes away.

 

'Just a quick lunch,' he explained. 'Hakyeon will be at the estate no later than six, and I would hate for us to ruin our appetite so early.'

 

He ordered a meal of a burger and fries, a soda to go along with it; and it was a sudden shock to Wonsik that he had never imagined Jaehwan doing ordinary things such as licking mustard off his middle finger as he was doing now.

 

Caught staring, Wonsik flushed a deep primrose, and turned away. Jaehwan laughed softly.

 

'Something on my face?' He reached for the napkins.

 

'No, nothing.'

 

He smiled around the food in his mouth, one cheek protruding greatly; it made him appear boyish. Wonsik, smiling at the absurdity of it all, suddenly wished for the table to be gone between them. He wanted to sit beside Jaehwan and put his arm about his smallish shoulders; he wanted to brush the unruly tendrils of hair out of Jaehwan's face, for they fell long over his eyes and made it difficult to see the autumn brown of his irises.

 

'You stare an awful lot,' Jaehwan crooned. 'You know that, Wonsikie?'

 

Wonsik ducked away. 'Sorry.' He clasped his hands together atop the table, staring blankly down at the food in front of him. He was starved, but his belly—full of flutters that wound miserably inside him—made it impossible to eat.

 

'I'm only playing,' Jaehwan told him. 'You can watch me all you want. I think it's flattering.' The smile he gave was a charming one, most different than the unfocused way he had smiled at Wonsik just the night before; it worsened the nerves that hounded deeply in Wonsik's head.

 

'You liked the play, didn't you?'

 

'Yeah, of course I did. I told you.' Wonsik stole a drink of soda. 'I thought you were great in it.'

 

'So you'll come to the other showings too?'

 

'If you'd like me to.'

 

Jaehwan beamed. 'Well, I won't expect you to be there every night, but there are going to be shows every day this week.'

 

'I'll be there.'

 

'And you won't be late?' Jaehwan steepled his hands before himself, concealing his face and ultimately the smile that showed there. Wonsik shook his head. 'Then it's settled. I'll see you on Monday evening too?'

 

Wonsik wanted to tell him that he would see him every night the following week, as a promise. But he merely nodded, finally taking the food into his hands; though his stomach clenched uncomfortably at the first bite.

 

Later, after they returned to the estate, it was obvious the frenzy the group was thrown into whenever Hakyeon was to come. What had felt lackadaisical upon waking: the clear, autumn sunlight bleaching the darkened rooms, Taekwoon at the breakfast bar musing over articles from the day's events; even the wind had blown softly, a warm front falling in from the south—was now rushed chaos that left Wonsik baffled. There was Hongbin, with bunny-quick motion, gliding from kitchen to bathroom, to the bedroom upstairs. He checked on the meal that Taekwoon was cooking—'Add salt, would you? It tastes so _bland_ '—then he dashed to the library where he took the bottles of whiskey and scotch, setting them all up on the dining table that was now set with plates and glasses too fine to use.

 

'They're completely crazy, aren't they?' Jaehwan laughed, but he too was pulled from his after-meal lazing at the sound of an approaching vehicle. All their listless behavior had melted away; books were stacked on night tables—Taekwoon's favorite novels on top—, an array of wines in the parlor, and even Sanghyuk whom, Wonsik was certain, found his nerves unbecoming for reasons completely different than everyone else, was sat fidgeting at the dining table. He was totally alone, save for the empty glass of wine that had once been full only moments before.

 

'You're back,' Hakyeon said to Wonsik when he approached the table. Hongbin had taken his coat and was hanging it delicately on a knob in the hallway. 'If you're going to hang out with these kids, then maybe you _should_ come back to the theater after all.'

 

There was something about him that Wonsik would never be able to pinpoint alone, but when Hakyeon smiled, his whole face enveloped in a kindness that blossomed and overwhelmed, Wonsik found it impossible to not be persuaded.

 

'Maybe I will,' he said in response. 'Next semester.'

 

'What about your music?' Jaehwan murmured beside him.

 

'Well, yeah, I wouldn't forget about that.'

 

'Maybe he'll write something for one of your plays,' Taekwoon offered. He loomed over his plate, not stopping eating long enough to have a full conversation, but this comment—as small as it was—piqued Hakyeon's interest without qualm. It sent him into an excited chatter that verged on delirium as he spoke adamantly about upcoming stories he was hoping to convert into playscripts.

 

'Wouldn't that be something,' Jaehwan said below his breath, speaking carefully so that only Wonsik could hear him. 'You coming back as a stagehand. It could be fun.'

 

'You think so?'

 

'Sure I do.' His ears were tinted red as he looked away; and below the table, a tickle touched Wonsik's ankle as Jaehwan's foot wriggled up the leg of his trousers.

Over the weeks that followed, the weather altered dramatically. The wind blew vivacious through yellowed leaves which skittered and crunched across the courtyards. The temperature dropped far below the 20's, and though the afternoon light still warmed the day to a bearable temperature, Wonsik often found Taekwoon stowed away in the upstairs library, where he would play listless, random notes on the Baldwin, his chin cradled within one palm.

 

It was the last Saturday of November when Wonsik, alone in the library, was thumbing through a shelf of encyclopedias. The door was thrown open, a soft clatter as it touched the wall then closed again, and downstairs, appearing forlorn, was Taekwoon. But once he noticed Wonsik over the banister, an alacrity fell over him that was at once surprising.

 

'What are you looking for?' he called up.

 

'I don't know yet. I have a mid-term coming up, and a paper to write.'

 

'A paper on what?'

 

'Well,' Wonsik laughed at himself, quietly. 'I don't _know_. I have to find something to write a report on.'

 

'Do you like Virginia Woolf?'

 

'I guess so.'

 

Taekwoon stopped midway up the stairs, a look of sheer concern passing quickly over his face. 'You haven't read her,' he accused. But this accusation was not misplaced.

 

'Well, I—'

 

'That's alright. I have a lot of her work.'

 

Taekwoon passed by without noticing the small stack of novels Wonsik had been building for the last fifteen minutes.

 

'Here you go.' He produced a smallish book called _To The Lighthouse_. 'It isn't her best, but it's good work, and I think you'll be able to write a decent paper on it.'

 

Wonsik took the book curiously, studying the cover. He took in the gloom of the colors, the artwork much like the paintings that filled the walls of the estate; such a romantic, he thought. 'Thanks.'

 

'What's this?' Taekwoon noticed the stack, and sifting through it lingered on one book in particular. ' _The Bell Jar_?' It seemed his face had burst to life like sparks of light. 'You like Plath?'

 

'I don't know much about her, but, I guess —Yeah.'

 

'What _do_ you know?'

 

Though there was no animosity in his tone, and his face was kindlier now than it had ever been before, Wonsik squirmed beneath Taekwoon's steady gaze. 'I really only remember a couple poems. _Lorelei_ , mostly,' he said when Taekwoon continued to stare, as if in wait.

 

'Can you recite it?'

 

'Oh—' Wonsik laughed. 'No way. Not all of it. I only remember bits and pieces.' His face filled with color as Taekwoon nodded, an affirmative motion that told Wonsik that he wanted to hear whatever Wonsik could remember.

 

Nervously, he recalled:

 

                                                          _Of your ice-heartened calling—_

_Drunkenness of the great depths._

 

_O river, I see drifting_

_Deep in your flux of silver_

_Those great goddesses of peace._

 

_Stone, stone, ferry me down there._

 

 

Taekwoon watched him closely, starry-eyed with wonder. Then he smiled. It was a brief curve of his mouth, hardly noticeable if one hadn't been looking for it, but it was the first real smile Wonsik had ever been given.

 

Secretly pleased, he tipped his head down to rather stare at the stack of books than the lingering affection within Taekwoon's face.

 

From downstairs, Jaehwan's voice called out, 'There you are!'

 

Taekwoon looked over the banister. 'And what are _you_ doing?'

 

'Looking for Wonsikie.'

 

Wonsik fumbled immediately with the books. 'Me?'

 

'Yes, you,' he smiled sweetly, his whole face scrunched with kindness. 'Want to go on a walk with me?'

 

Though wanting to leap at the opportunity immediately, Wonsik turned to Taekwoon. It was an odd exchange: either of them watching the other, trying to figure out what it was they wanted. Wonsik, wanting to go with Jaehwan, couldn't dream of passing up a moment to speak with Taekwoon; it wasn't often he was in an approachable mood. But the smile from before returned, and Wonsik felt his face grow warm.

 

'Do you wanna come with us?' Wonsik asked.

 

'No, it's too cold. I'll stay here.' He gathered the books into his arms. 'I'll keep these in the dining room for you.' Then, peering over the banister as Wonsik excused himself down the stairs, 'How long will you be?'

 

Jaehwan shrugged. 'An hour, maybe?'

 

'I'll have coffee ready when you come back.'

 

Outside, Hongbin was stretched out on the front lawn, leaves of yellow and orange speckling the dying green; he lay with his head on Sanghyuk's lap, his eyes closed. He appeared asleep, but as they walked past, the crunch of leaves beneath Wonsik's shoes roused him immediately.

 

'Where are you going?'

 

Sanghyuk, propped up on his elbows, had had his face angled toward the sun. He opened his eyes now, blinking through the haze of mid-day. 'Yeah, where _are_ you going.'

 

'For a walk,' Jaehwan said matter-of-factly. He continued on, Wonsik having to step lightly to keep close, and they weren't more than a couple meters from the house when the familiar tread of Sanghyuk's heavy footfalls echoed closely.

 

'Where are you walking to?' he asked. Hongbin followed far behind them.

 

Jaehwan gave Wonsik a sideways glance. He smiled, mildly entertained. 'The lake.'

 

'There's a lake?'

 

'Yes, 'course. It's not far.'

 

'Yes it is,' said Hongbin. He had lit a cigarette and with a mouthful of smoke, handed it over to Sanghyuk. 'It's totally far.'

 

'Not _really_ , though.'

 

But it was more than twenty minutes away, and the sun had dipped low behind greying clouds by the time they arrived. The wind blew cold, and Wonsik felt the first shivers of winter touch his spine. But the lake was large; a silvery blue, both beautiful and crystalline. It reflected the thick cloud, bits of leaves and deadened grass littering its surface.

 

'When it gets warmer,' Jaehwan said, 'we'll be able to go for a swim. Of course, that won't be for a while but...' He winked as he toed out of his loafers, then the watermelon colored socks he wore underneath. Bare foot, with the cuffs of his slacks rolled up, he dipped his toes into the freezing water.

 

'You're crazy,' Hongbin scoffed. 'Totally fucking crazy.'

 

'You're gonna get sick,' Wonsik murmured. But Jaehwan only smiled. He had waded through the shallow end, and was now standing with water up to his shins. Wonsik could see the darkened bits of fabric where the water had touched his slacks. 'You're really gonna stand in there and get cold?'

 

'Why don't you come out here? Stop being a _baby_ , Wonsik.'

 

'I'm not...'

 

There was a rustling behind him, and he was vaguely aware of Hongbin and Sanghyuk slipping off the field and toward the towering trees of surrounding forest. Sanghyuk's voice traveled faintly as he spoke about Hakyeon, and the playscript he was putting together.

 

'We can be alone out here,' Jaehwan said softly; and it was then Wonsik understood.

 

He toed out of his shoes, pulled the legs of his jeans up to his knees, and found himself wading ice waters. His whole body prickled with gooseflesh, but there was very little that could stop him from wanting to be near Jaehwan.

 

Far into the lake and away from the shoulder of land, Jaehwan took Wonsik's hand into his own and began a slow walk toward the trees.

 

'I heard you in the library. With Taekwoonie.'

  
Wonsik tried to hide behind a smile, but his embarrassment shined through, miserably.

 

'What was it your were reciting?'

 

' _Lorelei._ '

 

'Sylvia Plath, right?' He sighed, wistfully. 'Taekwoon is such a sucker for her. I bet he really appreciated that.' Smiling, he asked, 'You two are getting along better now?'

 

'I think so.'

 

'I do too. That's a good thing. It means you'll be around a lot more, right? He won't scare you off like he had that first time.'

 

Laughing, Wonsik tried to reclaim his confidence, declaring—rather loudly—that Taekwoon hadn't scared him off before. He was just an unnerving person to be around for long periods of time.

 

'He's just a big baby. Kind of like you.' He laughed when Wonsik stuttered over a response, one that wasn't the least bit cohesive. Then he pulled at Wonsik's hand, leading him through the lake that only grew colder as the sun fell farther over the horizon.

 

'There's a party at Woolley tomorrow,' Wonsik said off-handed, sitting with his bare feet air drying on the cusp of land just between field and lake. 'Do you wanna come with me?'

 

'I don't like parties.'

 

'Oh? That's alright.'

 

'Unless you want me to go?'

 

'Hmm,' Wonsik shook his head. 'You don't have to.'

 

'Well, I'm not really doing anything else.' He wriggled his toes, the soles of his feet dusted pink. His heel was stained lightly with dirt. 'But if it isn't fun, I'll probably leave.'

 

Without thought, or any knowledge of what he was doing, Wonsik murmured an agreeable sound as he reached out and took Jaehwan's cold foot into his hands. Jaehwan stilled a moment, his leg rigid as if Wonsik's touch had stung him; but just as soon as he had tensed, he relaxed. Jaehwan moved his toes, and it was after he had began to massage the delicate arch of his foot that Wonsik understood what he was doing. If it hadn't been the way Jaehwan lounged with his head tipped back slightly, his eyes closed; totally comfortable as they lay on the grass, Wonsik would have pulled his hands away. He would have apologized for the boldness of his actions. But Jaehwan was smiling faintly, and Wonsik's heart had galloped steadily into his mouth.

 

Later, when the sun had nearly dropped out of the sky, Sanghyuk burst by with an echo of laughter trailing after him: Hongbin, at his heels. They frolicked like children through a large field of flowers, laughing over nonsensical jokes, cold wind whipping their fine hair away from their faces.

 

Wonsik watched them run by, fading off toward the house. He touched Jaehwan's foot that lay in his lap. 'You wanna head back now?'

 

'No, not yet.'

 

And so they stayed.

They returned after dark. The coffee was still warm on the counter, two empty mugs set upside down; one for Jaehwan, and one for Wonsik. And from the library, they could hear the drifting sound of the Baldwin, of Hongbin's low murmuring voice speaking softly.

 

'We'll leave them alone tonight,' Jaehwan said as he poured coffee into the mugs. 'We can do something just ourselves.'

 

'Like what?'

 

'A movie, maybe?' He took a bottle of champagne from the cupboard, as well. 'Or maybe we can just talk?'

 

'Whatever you want.'

 

He gave the mugs to Wonsik and carried the champagne, a corkscrew and two glass flutes up the stairs. It was a wonder as they passed the room Wonsik usually occupied, and continued to another room. This one was at the very end of the hallway and ghastly cold upon entering. It was Jaehwan's room, Wonsik soon realized, and a giddiness rushed into him.

 

A record player sat, slightly dusty, in the far corner beside a bundle of vinyls. Many were instrumental tracks, some from the plays they had performed through the years and others from films Wonsik could remember seeing when he was young.

 

'They aren't all mine,' Jaehwan said. 'Most are Taekwoon's grandfathers, but he likes to leave them here since this is the only player in the house.' He drank his champagne, his smallest finger lifted ever so slightly from the glass. 'Do you wanna listen to something?'

 

He idly sifted through the records as Wonsik took a sip of coffee, then champagne, the combination making his nose wrinkle. He sat in a ratty armchair in the corner of the room, dust particles floating briefly by the moonlit window; to be in Jaehwan's room felt like a dream. It was as if he had stepped into another realm, one filled with the weak light of flickering candles from a candelabra, a low strung chandelier overhead. There was a rug made of abstract shapes sewn together, thick as a drapery, across the floor. And as if to reel all of this in: the low crooning of Jo Stafford filled the bedroom, her voice eerie yet kind.

 

'It's the only album with lyrics,' Jaehwan apologized. 'Perhaps we can find something when we go into town tomorrow.'

 

'Before the party.'

 

'Yes, before the party.' He sat on the edge of the bed, watching Wonsik with faint interest. 'Why are you all the way over there? Why don't you come sit with me?'

 

But closer, their shoulders brushing and the bed dipped beneath their weight, was almost too much to bear. Wonsik finished his champagne in a single gulp, then eyed the coffee that had become lukewarm.

 

'Why are you suddenly tense?' Jaehwan prodded gently. He nudged Wonsik with his shoulder, his hand dangerously close to Wonsik's leg. 'Is it because you're in my room?'

 

Wonsik gave a slight nod.

 

'Are you uncomfortable?'

 

'No,' he said. 'Just nervous, I guess.'

 

' _Nervous_?' Jaehwan's hand fell over Wonsik's own. 'Why are you nervous? It's only me.'

 

 _Only_ , Wonsik thought miserably. He glanced into Jaehwan's face and noted the way his hair was unkempt and windblown. It curled gently beside his ears, blondish curls framing his delicate face; he was too handsome to look at for long, and with his pulse inevitably rising, for Jaehwan had given Wonsik's hand a soft squeeze, Wonsik turned away as if scalded.

 

'Can I ask you something?'

 

Jaehwan startled. 'Sure.'

 

'It's a personal question.'

 

His face softened considerably.

 

'Well,' Wonsik fumbled with the empty glass flute, allowing Jaehwan to take it from him a moment later. 'I'm really curious... and I suppose it's been at the back of head for a while now.'

 

'Go on.'

 

'Who was it that you were in love with? Was it Hongbin?'

 

After a long demurral pause, Jaehwan shook his head. It was not an answering type of head shake, but a motion like he was trying to clear what thoughts had risen there.

 

'I never loved Hongbin,' he said gradually. 'Not in any special way, at least, no. It was Taekwoon.'

 

'Taekwoon—?'

 

'Funny that you would think it was Hongbin. Why is that?'

 

Wonsik didn't want to say, but Jaehwan's gaze only burrowed harder into him as the silence prolonged. 'I guess because you seem cold toward him sometimes.'

 

'Do I? I don't mean to be.'

 

Wonsik shrugged. 'I get it.'

 

'No you don't.' His tone had become thick, a little cold toward Wonsik as well; and he regarded him with mild disinterest, as if the conversation was one he was now unwilling to take part of. But surprisingly, his hand never left Wonsik's own.

 

He said, 'I don't still love him if that's what you're trying to understand. Not in the way that you're thinking of.'

 

Wonsik watched the floorboards. 'It isn't my business.'

 

'No, but I don't mind telling you.' He brought his hand up to Wonsik's face, palm against his jaw and fingers smelling of earth and grass. 'I like you. I thought you would have figured that out by now.'

 

'I had an idea,' Wonsik muttered. His face burned hotly, sweat beneath his collar as Jaehwan placed both hands against his jaw. He was so close, Wonsik could smell the sweet champagne of his breath.

 

'Then, don't worry.' Jaehwan pressed his nose into Wonsik's cheek, and the music swelled greatly; his mouth was a soft whisper against Wonsik's own, his breath hot and sweet as he kissed him.

 

It was something like magic. At first, his head swam and it seemed the world had fallen away, but as his heart began to beat steadily again, Wonsik found he was able to place his hands on Jaehwan's waist. He pulled him closer, feeling the champagne buzz beneath his skin.

 

'About the party,' Jaehwan softly began, 'since it'll be at Woolley House, do you think I could stay with you at your dorm? I'd hate to go all the way across campus. Especially,' he smiled, 'if we end up getting too drunk.'

 

Wonsik's response was purely automatic; fresh nerves filling his belly as he muttered, 'Sure, yeah —Why not?' and though he appeared calm as Jaehwan pulled away and went to the record player, lifting the needle to start the previous song over, Wonsik felt about to burst.

 

'You can stay with me tonight,' he continued casually. Then, looking over his shoulder, 'If you want to.' He moved across the room then, his motions fluid and dreamlike, to place his hands on Wonsik's shoulders. Then he leaned down and pressed his petal soft mouth to Wonsik's own, all of him: too elaborate to ever feel real.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lustfortaekwoon) / [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/Iovleo) ♡ love you all very much! pls anticipate more from this series.


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